


the great escape

by bughaw



Series: what a messed up world we live in [1]
Category: Banana Bus Squad, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Gang AU, M/M, Slow Burn, What is World Building, everything's sorta vague at the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-01 19:29:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15150242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bughaw/pseuds/bughaw
Summary: The need to get away results to more pleasant things like shit coffee, greasy food, and a cute waiter to keep him company.7/28/18 - Work is going through major revisions, updates will resume after.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> me: tries to set up this au  
> also me: word vomit
> 
> This hasn't been edited yet whoops, still I hope you enjoy!

John had driven away from the farmhouse in the middle of the night. He and the others weren’t supposed to do any of the sort, but he had reached the end of his patience after being woken up for the umpteenth time by the loud argument coming from the basement.

 

As muffled as it was, he had been able to make out Wildcat’s distinct screaming accompanied by something more unusual to hear, Vanoss’ voice raised in anger. The third person in their mating, Delirious, was oddly quiet the whole time.

 

The argument had him jerking awake. It had sent a jolt of panic in his veins and made him reach out for his gun that wasn’t there. With his head heavy from the lack of sleep and eyes drooping still, he glanced around the room, trying to take in what was happening before collapsing on his back once again. It was with a sigh that he resigned himself to another sleepless night when a couple of minutes had passed and the argument had not stopped.

 

He only had a vague idea of what they were fighting about, and John had to say that he agreed with whoever it was that thought their current setup was dumb. It was logical, sure, but dumb nonetheless, considering it was never a good idea for multiple aggravated men to spend more than a week cooped up in a space much too small for their number.

 

Still, he never once mentioned this to any of the other crew members since it was Vanoss who thought of it in the first place. (He might have a death wish but he never wanted to incur the wrath of Vanoss’ mates.)

 

It was disappointing to see that the other people he had been rooming with, Mini and Panda, had stayed unconscious throughout the entire thing. With jealousy brewing in his chest, John had forced himself to move off the air mattress provided for him. In his carelessness, he accidentally put too much weight on his still healing right leg. A litany or curses left his lips as he leaned on the wall while massaging it.

 

After that he was slow to dress up, and while doing so had he lamented his situation. It wasn’t something he envisioned himself doing, living with his crew members in such a tight space during the days leading up to his birthday, but it was something that couldn’t be helped.

 

He sighed. (He'd been doing that a lot lately.)

 

On his way out of the small guest room, he took his absurdly bright hoodie and tugged it on. Moo, another crew member, was in the living room, staring at the door leading to the basement with what seems to be an exasperated expression on his face. He looked as tired as John felt at that moment. Although sympathetic, he wasn't about to stay around any longer to provide the man with his company, so he had been forced to give Moo a slight nod as he limped out of the house.

 

On the front porch was their pair of Irishmen, Nogla and Terrorizer, both nursing a can of beer. The two were startled when the door slammed behind John, and he offered them an apologetic smile and a “whoops” while shuffling his feet a tad awkwardly. Shortly, he glanced between the pair and his vehicle parked out front. The two followed his gaze.

 

“Where ya goin’?” Nogla asked after taking a gulp of his drink.

 

John only shrugged. Anywhere was better than here.

 

“I don’t think it’s allowed, man.” Terrorizer looked sorry, but John wasn’t having it. He was tired, and there was no way he could go back to sleep when their leaders were acting like children and disturbing everyone else’s rest.

 

“Fuck that, dude,” he scoffed. He almost stumbled down the porch steps in his haste to get away. Glancing back, he was satisfied when Nogla and Terrorizer made no move to follow him. “Tell ‘em I’ll be back in a few hours!”

 

Terrorizer waved with a grin. “Don’t get shot out there, and careful with the leg.”

 

“I’ll do my best.” He slid into his car and wasted no time in starting it up. While waiting for the engine to warm, he turned on the radio, hoping he could find something to distract him from driving. Although he had a constant need for silence, it was never a good idea for him to drive in it.

 

When he finally found a station playing something more modern than the previous ones, he backed up and drove away. In the rearview mirror, he saw Terrorizer and Nogla waving him off.

Time evaded him as he drove through dark, empty streets with no company but the radio. He wasn’t too sure how long he drove for but it must have taken a while since the farmhouse was so far away from civilization. Multiple songs have played when he reached streets that were barely illuminated by poorly lit street lamps. It was shortly after that he arrived at a diner he had noticed quite often during the limited times he left the city.

 

With a sigh of relief as his leg's been acting up, he parked outside.

 

He shut off the engine, and while massaging his aching leg, John’s eyes trailed over the small lot. The rundown diner, aptly named Salem’s Diner, stood out in the darkness in all the wrong ways. Its neon signage was dying out, making it seem as if the place was Sal’s; the paint outside was atrocious and peeling, the metal accents rusting, and the sparse greenery near death already. It looked like a scene from a badly made horror movie. John couldn’t help but cackle at the thought.

 

It was a bad idea but he still left the car. Screw him, he was tired and hungry.

 

Hobbling over to the entrance, he recalled that what he was doing was technically wrong, but on the other hand, the instruction was to keep away from the business district until the resulting commotion from their heist died down. There was never any mention of going to places outside of the busiest part of the city.

 

It was a shitty excuse, and he was certain there would be repercussions, but he convinced himself that he deserved this. He was gaining another year for fuck’s sake. Celebrating his godforsaken birthday eating instant noodles and canned food that didn’t really taste like anything remotely made for humans wasn’t the way to do it.

 

(It was no easy feat--trying to ignore the snarky voice in his head telling him that diner food was just as bad.)

 

A quiet chiming sound echoed inside the moment he pushed open the door. The lack of customers and staff in sight made him question if the place really was open, or if the staff had forgotten to lock up. He regretted not bringing a gun with him as he approached the counter with still no sign of anyone.

 

None of his crew members would let him live it down if this was a trap.

 

With slight hesitance, he tapped the counter bell twice, his teeth gnawing on his chapped lips. He was going to hit it a third time when a mop of white hair popped up from behind the counter. It was only his experience with dangerous shit that stopped him from screaming out at the surprise.

 

He tried to calm his breathing as he watched the head loll ever so slightly to the sides.

 

(Fascination bubbled in his chest at the fact that the man's hair was lighter than his own.)

 

“Yo, White,” he dubbed the man since he couldn't see his nametag. His leg just resumed its aching when he slumped onto one of the stools. White turned towards him, and he was faced with a pair of obnoxiously colored red and blue lenses. “You guys open?”

 

A minute or two probably passed before he noticed White freezing up. “Oh fuck,” escaped White’s lips. He stumbled up and waved his hands, apologies spilling after the curse.

 

“It’s fine, dude. I get it, it’s late. So, open then?”

 

White cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, we are.” He reached underneath the counter and handed John a fading menu before turning away. When he turned back, his nametag was in place on his red and white striped top _(Smitty, how oddly charming)_ and his glasses were nowhere to be found. Under the fluorescent lights, his green eyes shone brilliantly. They stood out on his pale face. “So, what would you like?”

 

Going through the menu, he listed multiple things off. By the end of it, when he had ordered more than five items excluding coffee, Smitty had a worried look on his face.

 

“Uh…” He tapped his notepad before glancing up with a cocked eyebrow. “You sure you can finish all of that?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Suit yourself, man.” He served John his coffee before disappearing to the back.

 

It was silent, and with no one to converse with, John ended up taking in the diner with hooded eyes as his thoughts drifted off. The interior was in much better shape than its exterior, and he found himself wondering if Wildcat and Vanoss were still fighting or if Delirious had already put a stop to it. There was a jukebox not too far from the counter, and with a ghost of a smile he remembered the one he used to mess with back in the diner in his hometo—

 

He grunted. This is why he hated silence as much as he craved it.

 

The coffee was scalding but he chugged it down nonetheless.

 

Smitty returned to him coughing his lungs out. He wasn’t sure if he had just been hearing things, but he was pretty sure the other man snorted before handing him a glass of water.

 

“You okay there, my dude?”

 

His gulped down half of the glass before nodding. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

 

“Glad to hear. Well, your food’s gonna take a while.” Smitty climbed over the counter before dropping down on the stool next to John. He checked his watch before frowning. “Dude, it’s so late. The hell are you doing out?” He leaned back a bit, seeming to check the space next to John before meeting his gaze. “You a traveler?”

 

The familiar way he addressed John would have pissed him off any other time but currently he just deemed it endearing. He really did need to sleep. “Nope. Just couldn’t sleep.”

 

Smitty snorted. “So, you decided to go to the shittiest diner in the area?”

 

“Yup. Where else would I go for terrible coffee?”

 

Smitty cackled at his reply. “Dude, there’s a Starbucks near here. Shoulda gone there.”

 

“They wouldn’t have had someone cute behind the counter.” Grinning, he leaned his cheek on a closed fist. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he enjoyed the way Smitty’s cheeks turned pink at his comment.

 

“They did the last time I went there.”

 

“Was he sleeping instead of doing his job?”

 

“Touché.”

 

John hummed. “What about you, what has you working this shift?”

 

“Co-worker gave birth so I was given her shift since I was new. Lemme tell you, man, best shift of my life.”

 

“This has nothing to do with the fact you were sleeping when I arrived?”

 

Smitty’s grin was telling.

 

“Don’t worry I won’t tell on you.”

 

“You better, else I’ll spit in your coffee.”

 

John shook his head while biting down a laugh. Occasionally, he pressed on his thigh to stave away the aching. After the couple of times he did it, he wasn’t surprised when Smitty asked about it.

 

“Accident,” was the only reason he offered. It was the easiest one to explain, anyway. Smitty cocked a brow but left it be.

 

“So…” Smitty cleared his throat when John didn’t say anything else. “You couldn’t sleep so you decided to go for some coffee at… one a.m.?”

 

“Yup.” The ‘p’ popped off his lips.

 

“That’s just stupid.”

 

John shrugged. “That’s me, Mr. Stupid Man.”

 

“Well, Mr. Stupid Man, I’ll be back with your food. Jeff’s probably done with it.” Smitty hopped off the stool and climbed over the counter again. John didn’t have the heart to tell him that it would have been easier if he had just rounded the counter.

 

He brought out his mod before calling out to Smitty just before he entered the kitchen. “Yo, you mind if I vape?”

 

Smitty turned to him, turned to the sign above the counter about no smoking inside, before nodding. “Go for it, dude. Who’s gonna complain?”

 

John grinned and gave him a one-finger salute. “Thanks, dude.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

It wasn’t too long when Smitty and a much older, bulkier man returned carrying plates of food which they lined up in front of John. He gave them his thanks, to which the man replied to with a grunt before he went back to the kitchen. Smitty flashed him a thumbs up after climbing over the counter again, this time more carefully.

 

“Enjoy, monsieur.”

 

Looking at all the food he ordered, and the slowly pooling grease at some of the plates, John groaned. “You wouldn’t mind helping me finish these, would you?”

 

Smitty blinked at him before cackling. He didn’t nod until after his laughter bubbled off. “Sure, I guess.”

 

John handed him a fork. “You’re a godsend, dude.”

 

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

 

It wasn’t until more than an hour later that they finished the entirety of John’s order. By that time, his mod had died out, and he was much more relaxed than he had been when he left the farmhouse. Smitty was in a similar state, except with lidded eyes as he seemed to be bordering sleep.

 

John nudged him gently and watched as green eyes startled into wakefulness. “Don’t fall asleep on me, now,” he teased.

 

Smitty’s smile looked more bashful this time. He sat up and stretched before turning to John again. “Sorry, it’s been more than eleven hours at this point.”

 

“Eleven hours?”

 

“My shift.”

 

John gaped at him. “Pretty sure that’s not healthy.”

 

“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

 

“What time do you get off?”

 

“My,” Smitty’s brow was raised. “That’s too forward. I don’t even know your name and you’re asking me when I get off?”

 

Realizing his mistake, John immediately blurted it out.

 

“John, huh? It suits you.”

 

“It does?”

 

“Yeah. A basic bitch boy name.”

 

He didn’t know if it was the coffee or the greasy food he ingested making him delirious, or perhaps it was the lack of sleep, but John doubled over as deep-gut laughter escaped his lips. It didn’t take long for Smitty to join him, the two of them leaning close to hold each other up.

 

“T-that’s,” John gulped in. “Stupid. So stupid.”

 

Smitty snorted. “Had you laughing though.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

Their laughter tapered off, but they didn’t move away. It was at that moment, with him sitting so near to Smitty and without the scent of his vape muddling his senses, that he noticed it. He smelled nothing from the other man. It was a weird thing considering that even betas emitted their scents, however faintly it was.

 

“Um.”

 

John blinked slowly, still trying to key in on Smitty’s scent, when he felt himself being nudged away. His cheeks tinged pink when he realized that he had unconsciously pressed his nose to the juncture of Smitty’s neck.

 

He leaned back, looking bashful. “Sorry.”

 

Smitty gave him a tight-lipped smile. “No harm done. I should probably put these away.”

 

Clearing his throat, John asked, “how much do I owe ya?”

 

He was thankful when Smitty didn’t mention his fuck up while ringing him up. Watching the man clean up their mess, he contemplated on what strain Smitty was. The most logical was that he was a beta, but he didn’t want to offend the man in case he wasn’t. When Smitty returned the next time, John rued his lack of filter when he blurted out, “so, what are you?”

 

Smitty looked up from wiping the counter. “Huh?”

 

“Uh…” Clearing his throat, John glanced away. It was with a quiet voice that he said, “your strain?”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Silence soon followed. John couldn’t help but fidget in his seat. He screwed up again, and really, he should have never left the farmhouse in the first place. Maybe he would have saved himself the embarrassment had he stayed. He was about to push off the stool and leave when Smitty replied. His voice was soft enough that John almost missed it.

 

“Omega.”

 

“Oh… cool.” He winced. Cool, seriously? “I’m an alpha.”

 

He heard a snort that he was slowly becoming familiar with. “I couldn’t tell.”

 

John glanced at him and felt himself deflate when he noticed no anger on the man’s face. He slumped over the counter but kept his eyes on Smitty. “I lack tact, as you can see. I’m always getting scolded for it.”

 

Smitty resumed his wiping. “Your mom?”

 

“Mm-mm, a friend.”

 

“A mom friend.” John thought back to Vanoss and how mothering he could be at times. He was essentially the mother of the crew with how often he takes care of them.

 

“Sort of.”

 

“Tell them you need more lessons on it then.” It was brief, but John caught the smile dancing on Smitty’s lips.

 

"Will do."

 

He would have loved to stay longer but his phone vibrated in his pocket just as muffled screeching sounded. The two of them startled, and John rushed to answer the call. His heart was thundering since he knew who it was without even checking. “Uh… hi.”

 

“Really? Hi? Where the fuck are you?” There went his hopes of Delirious placating his mates. Wildcat was pissed.

 

“Out.”

 

“Well, get back here, asshole. Evan went out and I need you to help the others look for him.”

 

“Uh… it’ll take a while.”

 

“What do you mean it’ll take a while?” He winced at the sheer volume of the question. It must have been louder than he thought since Smitty flinched at the sound.

 

“I’m near the city.”

 

“Oh for fuck’s—you know what, go look for him there. Does no one know how to follow instructions? Fucking Evan told us to stay put and he couldn’t even be a good example for it.” John was sure that Wildcat would have continued ranting, since he was so pissed off, so he gave a quiet ‘goodbye’ before ending the call.

 

He was too tired for this bullshit.

 

“Oof, who was that? They sounded mad.”

 

“Uh…” If Vanoss was the mom, would that make Wildcat the dad? Or was it Delirious? “Dad friend.”

 

“You guys are taking the family schtick to the next level, huh? He mad that _wittle_ John was out so late?”

 

“Fuck off,” he chuckled. “I gotta go. He needs my help with something.”

 

“Oh.” He was pretty sure that it was his imagination when he saw the slight droop of Smitty’s shoulders. “Right, right. Well, see you.”

 

John pushed up the stool, careful not to put too much weight on his injured leg. He shuffled his feet for a second or two before pushing forth the hand holding his phone. “Number?”

 

He wouldn’t admit it, but he was scared when Smitty did nothing the following moment.

 

“It’s fine if you don’t want t—” His phone was snatched away. With wide eyes he watched as Smitty tapped through it before handing it back. On the screen, it said ‘Milkbag’ above what he hoped was the man’s actual number. “Thanks. I’ll uh, see you around.”

 

There was a ghost of a smile on Smitty’s lips when he waved John off. “See ya.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief lunch before John goes back to the diner. Really, does this man have nothing better to do with his life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this hasn't been edited yet whoops

The new contact saved on his phone was all but forgotten in the succeeding days. Though that fateful night had ended with John in good spirits, it was short lived as unexpected news reached him and the rest of the crew. The dawn of a new day had brought nothing but trouble as they received word that Vanoss had been jumped and taken by a smaller rival crew.

 

If it had been any other day, this intel would have been taken lightly. After years in the business, all of them had grown capable of defending themselves and holding out until the cavalry came. It was a shame, however, that Vanoss’ scheduled heat had been fast approaching, giving them limited time to prepare for a rescue. It didn’t help matters that Wildcat had been wound so tight as a result of their lockup after the previous heist. The hotheaded Alpha had been a ticking time bomb at that point, and had it not been for Delirious intervening, he would have gone off by himself to save Vanoss.

 

And hadn’t that been a surprise to them—Delirious taking up the role as the responsible one in their mating.

 

Being down one member didn’t really disable their crew. It might have years ago, but they were different now. Within a day or two they had been fully prepared to rein terror on the group who dared oppose them, and the third saw Vanoss returning to his mates, with the unnamed crew destroyed completely as an added bonus.

 

Majority of the fourth day post-diner was spent helping with clean up, and the entirety of the next two sleeping in his apartment. John’s birthday had gone and passed with him unconscious, and wasn’t that such a shame after the mini rebellion he had exhibited just a few days prior? He would have spent longer just lazing around and catching up on sleep but some of the others had better plans, like dragging him out of his apartment to go out for food.

 

A day after his birthday found John in the backseat of Craig’s car complaining about being taken against his will. In response to his complaints, Anthony, who was sitting in front, simply raised the volume of the radio while ‘singing’ along. (It was more like screeching if John was being honest.)

 

“I want to sleep some more,” John huffed while crossing his arms. The tinted windows of Craig’s car obstructed his view of the streets. It wasn’t something that he particularly liked since he thought it better to be careful of his surroundings often.

 

“Silly, you’ve slept long enough.” Craig caught his eyes in the rearview mirror. The Brit grinned at him as he made a left. “And you’re not getting any younger, it’s high time we celebrate.”

 

“Do I have any say in this?”

 

Anthony snorted mid-screeching and looked back at him with a grin. “Sorta. You can choose where we eat.”

 

That piqued his interest. “Your treat?”

 

“Craig’s.”

 

“Wha—wait, a se--!”

 

“Nice, nice.” Leaning forward, John gave the directions to one of the small, upscale restaurants in the city. Craig gave a sound of indignation at his words, making him and Anthony laugh. “Hey, you said it was your treat.”

 

“I did not!” He really didn’t, despite that he still followed John’s instructions. It didn’t take long for them to arrive. While waiting for Craig to deposit his car to the valet, John went through his contacts to send a message to the others at Anthony’s prompting. He wasn’t sure if it was because the man genuinely wanted to spend time with the rest of the group or if he was just doing this to piss Craig off.

 

His eyes caught the name above Nogla’s number on his phone. For a moment, he was confused at to who the ‘Milkbag’ person could be, before the events pre-stress week returned to him. He turned to his currently arguing companions and asked, “is it okay if I invite another friend to come?”

 

At that, Anthony and Craig ceased their fighting and turned to John. They were both gaping at him, and not a second lasted before Craig started fake tearing up. “A friend? Oh, he’s growing up, Anthony.”

 

In his peripheral, John could see the hostess waiting on them. He felt bad for her knowing how difficult it would be to serve their table. “So? Is it okay?”

 

Anthony shrugged. “Go for it, dude. Craig’s treat, remember?” He grinned at Craig before following the lady. Craig rolled his eyes but nodded nonetheless.

 

“Go for it, I guess. Just make sure to tell the others in case some of them go blabbering their mouths.”

 

Nodding, John motioned for him to go to their table before sending a quick message to their group chat. After, he tapped on Smitty’s contact and stepped out while listening to the line ring. It was probably the stupidest thing he’ll do for the week, but sue him, the guy was cute.

 

The first two tries went to voicemail, but John was nothing if not persistent. Going for a third, he pressed the phone to his ear and waited with baited breath. He was so focused on the ringing that he didn’t notice the person standing next to him.

 

“Boo,” the person blew into his ear, making him jump. It was also at that moment that Smitty decided to pick up the phone.

 

John turned while clutching his chest. “Dude, seriously?” He glared at Daithi who merely cackled. Noticing the ongoing call, he brought it up to his ear and said, “Hey, it’s John.”

 

Confusion was prominent in Smitty’s voice when he replied. “John?” A beat before, “oh my god, I’m not insane. Thank fuck.”

 

It was his turn to be confused. For once, Daithi was quiet beside him. “Uh… congrats?”

 

“Oh, shit, sorry.” He could hear ruffling in the background before Smitty’s much clearer voice sounded again. “What’s up? And why are you up at… wait, never mind, it’s the afternoon.”

 

John chuckled and leaned on the wall behind him. He could almost feel Daithi’s confusion, as stupid as that sounded. “Are you free right now?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Need something?”

 

Well, here it goes. “My friends and I are celebrating my birthday. I was wondering if you could come?” Was that presumptuous? He hurriedly added, “if you want to, that is.”

 

“Oof. I’m sorry, my dude. I have a shift waiting for me at the diner in about… now, actually. Sorry about that. Happy birthday, though. If you have time to swing by, I can give you free shit coffee.”

 

“Oh.” Was it possible for a person to deflate? “I’ll make sure to drop by then. See you, and uh, good luck on your shift.”

 

“Much appreciated. Happy birthday again, John. See ya.”

 

“Yeah. Bye, Smitty.”

 

And the line went dead. Rejection on the first time, what shit luck John had. He felt Daithi nudge him with an elbow. “Who’s ‘at?”

 

“A friend.”

 

If it was possible, Daithi looked even more confused. “But we’re all here?”

 

It was his birthday celebration and they were all teasing him. Fantastic.

 

“You guys are assholes, you know that?”

 

“Hey! Yer an asshole, too, ya know.”

  

* * *

 

 

Lunch ended with little trouble occurring, bar one incident with Evan and a pushy Alpha in the restroom that was easily settled by Jonathan. It was a relief that it turned out to be so, considering the people that made up their group. John considered them brother in arms, sure, but it wasn’t often that they could spend time without some larger than life personalities butting heads with each other.

 

The atmosphere had been easy going, and the events of the past few weeks not once mentioned even though Evan looked worse for wear still as his Alphas hovered close. Plates upon plates of Japanese food were ordered, and immediately devoured, all of them acting as if they hadn’t been fed for quite some time. Talk about going out that night had been shut down as fast as it was brought up, most of the group agreeing on the fact that they needed more time to recuperate from how fast paced things had been going recently.

 

When the dishes were all but cleared out and it was time to pay, it had been obvious that Craig was dreading it. To his delight however, his wallet didn’t suffer much since Evan had been gracious enough and offered to split the bill with him despite Tyler’s protests that Craig’s finances could handle it. Jonathan didn’t offer much help with the slight argument that sprouted with his cackling. As always, it was interesting to witness how the trio’s dynamics worked outside of missions.

 

After settling the bill with Craig and Evan footing it, they all parted ways with the instruction to meet at the base in a week. John had been dropped off at his apartment complex by Anthony and Craig, who hurriedly sped off to cause some ruckus or another. John didn’t waste time either as he hurriedly changed clothes before getting into his own vehicle to drive towards the direction of the diner.

 

Had any of the others accompanied him, he would have surely been berated for his actions. Getting so excited over seeing an Omega he knew close to nothing about could be a death sentence in their line of business, as exhibited by Evan multiple times.

 

(He was, however, alone and old enough to make his own decisions. That’s what he kept telling himself as he went over the speed limit in his haste to get to his destination.)

 

The state of diner when he had arrived was a stark contrast to what it had been the first time he came. Unlike the deserted, horror shack, it was bustling and brimming with energy when he entered. The staff were quick to greet a joyful ‘welcome!’ before going on with their responsibilities. Smitty’s mop of white hair stood out from the counter as he waved John over.

 

“Hiya,” he greeted as John straddled on of the stools. He was quick to serve John some coffee after handing him the same fading menu. “Didn’t think you’d actually come around.”

 

Thinking back to how awful the food had tasted, John forewent the meal and settled with sipping his coffee. It still tasted like dirt, marvelous. “Figured I’d take you up on your offer since I got nothing better to do.”

 

At that, Smitty cocked a brow. For the first time, John noticed that it was stark white like his hair. Huh. “I find that hard to believe, good sir.”

 

“That I got nothing better to do?” When Smitty nodded, he snorted in return. Before he could help himself, and really this was why Tyler kept saying they were all idiots with no filters, John said, “best believe it, man. We just finished another mission so it’s just down time for a few days.”

 

“Mission?” Smitty looked up when he was called on by another man sitting in one of the booths. “Gimme a sec,” he told John before taking the pot of coffee to the man to refill his mug. From his position, John watched the interaction, and couldn’t help but huffing when it lasted for more than a couple of seconds. A man who was a stool away from him chuckled at his reaction, drawing John’s attention away from Smitty.

 

“Don’t be so jealous now, son.” He told John while tipping his mug towards him. “Them Omegas don’t like it when a man gets so possessive, y’know.”

 

“I’m n—he’s not—” He huffed again and wiped a hand on his face. What a mess. With his reaction, it was not a surprise that the man had assumed things. He couldn’t fault him for it since it was his fault for acting in such a way. “Gotcha, sir.”

 

The man nodded with a slight quirk of his lips. It only widened when Smitty resumed his position in front of John, and John immediately glanced at him. “What were you saying again?” Smitty asked, taking a cloth and wiping down the counter. “Sorry about that, it’s usually busy around this time.”

 

John waved him off, the man completely forgotten. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t even be bothering you during a shift.” He slumped in his seat and nudged his mug towards Smitty, the Omega taking the hint and refilling it. “And yeah, nothing to do right now since I, uh, we’re on a break.”

 

Smitty hummed. “What’s your job anyway? Sounds neat, with the downtime and shit. You should hook me up.”

 

How does one say part of an organized crime group without getting the cops called on them? John winced, recalling his mistake once more. “I’m a… businessman?”

 

“Are you asking me? ‘Cause I wouldn’t know, dude.”

 

One screwup after another. Someone should just shoot him. “Yeah. A businessman. The deal went great, so we’re given off for the weak.” John glanced up briefly, his brows furrowing when he noticed Smitty looking around warily. He was about to ask if something was wrong when Smitty climbed over the counter again and plopped down on the free stool beside him. “Um.”

 

The mop of white hair bounced a bit as Smitty grinned at him. “They won’t mind. I think. Carla and the others got it.”

 

Hesitantly, John nodded. “If you’re sure, man. I can just sit here while you work, you know. Maybe I’ll order something later.” He took a sip and withheld a wince at how awful the coffee still tasted.

 

“It tastes better with milk.” Smitty told him as he nudged John’s booted foot with his own. “Everything tastes better with milk.”

 

“Better with milk, huh? You like milk? ‘S that why you call yourself milkbag?”

 

“Who knows?”

 

“What.” John deadpanned. “You know. Smitty, you saved yourself under that name on my phone.”

 

Smitty’s answering grin almost distracted him from their conversation.

 

* * *

 

 

After a couple of hours, three finished plates of stale pancakes, and innumerable amounts of coffee, John and Smitty found themselves a few miles away from the city. John’s car was parked at the side of the road, and the pair was sitting on the hood, John messing about with his mod while Smitty devoured a bag of gummies they had found in John’s car.

 

Despite the fatigue lacing his actions, Smitty remained a chatterbox as he conveyed gossips about his coworkers to John. “There’s this one cook…” Smitty said in between chews. “Jeff the cook, right? He’s a fucking perv.” More chewing before, “old man likes feeling up people during work hours. I hate working shifts with him.”

 

Well, that was worrying. John’s voice came out deeper as he exhaled clouds while speaking. “Maybe you should tell your boss about it.” The smell of blueberries remained in the air as the clouds slowly dissipated.

 

“Nah, can’t do that, man. He’s the boss’ brother. Which is such a shame really since the boss man’s great to all the employees. Maybe Jeff the cook’s adopted.” Smitty’s nose scrunched up as he held up the bag and squinted at it. “These taste like shit.”

 

“Yeah? Well, I told you not to eat those.” John flicked the bag.

 

“And waste a perfectly—wait no, not perfect. The point is, you shouldn’t be wasting sweets, my dude.”

 

John directed a stare at Smitty. “Those are so old I don’t even remember when I bought those. C’mon, hand it to me, I’ll chuck it to the street.”

 

Smitty let out a gasp that John could only hope was of fake offense. Rolling his eyes, he reached over to take it from Smitty’s hand but the other man wouldn’t relent as he leaned back and held it away from John’s reach. “Nu’uh. These are mine.”

 

“You’re gonna make yourself sick, dude.” He shifted closer and tried to close his hand around the bag but only ended up making them topple over the side as Smitty tried to move away from him. Both men groaned as they landed on the dirt. Smitty letting out a whine shortly when he noticed that the remaining gummies had dropped from the bag.

 

“Look what you did!” He pointed to the spilled sweets, making John laugh as he pushed himself up. He tugged Smitty along and helped him pat down his clothes. “Such a waste.”

 

John shook his head. “I’ll buy you more, don’t worry.”

 

“Oh my, is that a promise?”

 

With a toothy grin, John nodded. He wasn’t quite sure how long they spent beaming at each other before he cleared his throat and asked, “so… is Smitty really your name?”

 

“In a way, yeah.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Smitty shrugged and said, “in a way, it’s my name.” And didn’t elaborate further.

 

Not wanting to test his luck with that question, John then asked, “what brings you here?”

 

He was given a deadpan stare. “John, you brought me here.”

 

“I meant Los Santos, Smitty.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

John regretted asking when silence soon followed. It was uncomfortable unlike the others that they had basked in prior this encounter. Such a shame that he couldn’t seem to control his mouth around Smitty the two times he had conversed with the man. “You don’t gotta answer.” He finally said.

 

“Mhm.” A beat. And then, “had to get away, you know? My old home wasn’t doing it for me anymore. Had to find bigger, and better things.”

 

That, John understood. “Yeah, yeah. I get that. Los Santos your first option?”

 

Smitty shook his head and leaned back. It brought him closer to John’s spot on the dirt floor. “Was the cheapest option. Figured I could find something for me here. Say, serving at a shit diner.”

 

They both chuckled. John bumped his shoulder to Smitty’s and said, “don’t think it’ll stay like that for long, man. Same thing happened to me, but I found better things. Just have to wait, or search for it, I guess.” In John’s case, stumble into it as he tried to take on one of the largest crews in Los Santos. Until now, he was still indebted to Evan’s generosity.

 

Turning to look at Smitty, he found that he was being given a look of apprehension. John understood why, and he really wasn’t the right guy to soothe another person’s fears about this kind of thing since he had been riding on luck thus far.

 

The silence had begun to grow uncomfortable again, and this time he didn’t know what to do to remedy it. He was prepared to just invite Smitty for a drive back to the city when the man spoke again.

 

“Yeah? Well, I’ll be holding you to that, John.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! I'm working on the next part as this one gets posted, so please bear with me :)
> 
> if you want to scream about loser yters with me hmu on [twitter](https://twitter.com/alsoBughaw)

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!
> 
> if you scream at dumb yters like i do hmu on [twitter](http://twitter.com/bloooie)


End file.
